


keep a darker place

by hannahoftheinternet



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Feels, Gen, Memories, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahoftheinternet/pseuds/hannahoftheinternet
Summary: Dreams fade when you wake up, but Donna wishes that they didn't. They might have been important. Like she was, once.





	keep a darker place

_So cold, but there’s someone singing. She weeps for them, for the singer of the song of captivity._

_Someone needs saving, but if she reaches out, she feels nothing but mist. She doesn’t feel real._

_Dangling in midair, but she can’t fall. Not yet. There’s so much to be done. She needs to go._

_Loud humming, the cool feeling of a necklace on her chest. There’s a mystery to be solved._

_Always crying. A silly girl is dead when she shouldn’t be. Nothing but bones and whispers._

_She’s whirling. Something is scraping, a grinding noise emitting from all around her._

_Tears pouring down her face. “Just save someone,” she pleads. Her chest hurts._

_“Oi! Watch it, spaceman!” Her voice, and a smile plays at her lips. Laughter._

_She was meant to go along forever. She was the most important woman._

Donna ran a brush through her hair, strands of red getting stuck in the bristles. The smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen.

Her nightshirt was three sizes too big for her. It went down almost to her knees. A dark blue, it reminded her of flowers and those old telephone boxes.

The paper was laying on the table when she opened the door to the kitchen. The headline read, “NEW EVIDENCE DISCOVERED ABOUT AGATHA CHRISTIE’S 11-DAY DISAPPEARANCE IN 1926.”

Donna pulled her piece of toast out of the toaster, dropping it on her plate and burning her fingers. “See anything interesting last night, Gramps?”

“Flying box,” he muttered. Donna laughed, taking the jam out of the fridge.

“Your perfume arrived this morning,” her mum said, appearing in the doorway. “Why on Earth would you want forget-me-not perfume? They smell awful.”

“Not today, Mum.”

There was a special about Pompeii on television that evening. Only a very few survived the eruption, the narrator said. Donna wanted to cry.

The night was cold, but not bitingly so. Donna sat on the hill with her grandfather, a thermos of cocoa between her hands.

“Do you ever wish you could remember your dreams?” she asked, licking away the mustache of whipped cream the cocoa had left on her upper lip.

“You can’t?”

“I remember that I had dreams last night, but I can’t remember what they were.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to,” her grandfather said, moving so she could peer into the telescope.

Donna looked through the eyepiece, putting her thermos against her chest to warm herself. “Yeah. Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> I 100% cried while writing this I'm not even kidding. title is from "keeping your head up" by birdy.


End file.
